August 21 2014
With tram to an unknown region of Cologne. Looking for an address. Somewhere around here there should be a performance, supposedly nearby is a dance studio.
After much moving back and forth finally we did it, we found in the rear courtyard of a house, a small bright paradise.
Lots of natural light, a beautiful floor, and against the wall on the right a seating bank of chairs.
We are very warmly welcomed in English by an attractive gentleman, Andrew Morrish. I would like to adopt such an approach, kind, warm and professional. It shouldn’t be so hard to manage. He looks like he can do it happily, lightheartedly.
Eventually, the audience all have a place. Tension rises.
When will it begin? A young guest gets impatient, he rocks about on his chair.
And then, finally, the first dancer enters.
He dances!
„Where’s the music? I can’t hear it”. Notes the young young guest, who is between three and four years old, and very critical. But he’s right. Where is the music?
No one seems to be able to hear it, only the dancer.
His white shirt slips out of his pants, he moves so nimbly, I wonder: Has he no knees? How does it work?
And he seems to hear the music.
We see the music in his dance. The young guest accepts this as explanation and decides to continue watching. An even younger guest makes his own music, and accompanies the dance: his father’s performance – confident, despite or because of, the additional sounds and critical commentary provided by his eldest son.
It is an improvisation of a special and unexpected sort: The man with the white shirt does not let himself be disturbed, he keeps dancing. On the contrary, he builds the sounds, the critical, and supportive comments („Paul, go on!“) into his dance. Somehow he does not lose the thread – or he has this as inspiration in the moment.
The journey continues. At some point a Danish Viking is there on the dance floor.
Was it planned? Or did he somehow materialize?!
It doesn’t matter, he’s there.
At the end I can not say how much time (or timelessness?) We spent in this bright room.
Time stands still. The audience spellbound.
The youngest guest continues his sounds while at the end the older son says congratulations.
How nice that the dancer can have this performance with, and in front of his family, and that at the end he can express his thanks for this. Paul Roberts with white shirt, stable knees, music that can’t be heard, husband and father and dancer.
Its beautiful to see that everything can go together, when we just let the music remain as something that can’t be heard.
